


Complements don't Come Cheap

by Mishka10



Series: Jaskier has a praise kink [6]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt has a praise kink, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Riding, jaskier has a praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24838375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishka10/pseuds/Mishka10
Summary: "Geralt flushes. Jaskier swears it, swears he sees the edges of the Witcher’s ears reddening, the lightest of flushes gracing his face.Oh. Ooh, Things had decidedly just gotten much more interesting."Jaskier has a praise kink. He didn't quite expect to discover Geralt might just have one too.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Jaskier has a praise kink [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720474
Comments: 4
Kudos: 241





	Complements don't Come Cheap

Large arms wrap around Jaskier’s chest, he feels the strong body pressed comfortably against him. A welcomed distraction, they certainly had time now to indulge, evening tasks finished for the day, why not take the time to enjoy one’s self. He smiles, leaning back into the touch, sighs comfortably. Geralt hums in response, head tilting to nuzzle against Jaskier’s neck.

Jaskier can’t hold back a laugh at the touch, he twists round to face Geralt, a coy smile playing on his lips. Geralt smiles back, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Jaskier’s lips, hands settling on the bard’s hips, rough thumbs rubbing soft circles on Jaskier’s hip.

Jaskier snorts, nose scrunching, offers a teasing, “you smell of blood.”

Geralt pauses at that, hands stilling at the bard’s waist. “Is that a problem?” the Witcher asks, eyebrow raised in question.

Jaskier toys with saying yes, just to see what Geralt does. See if he stops, moves away. Mind flicking through the possibilities, they could call for a bath, have one brought up… imagines of the Witcher stripping down, sinking down into sweet smelling waters. He imagines joining the man, legs slotting around Geralts in the bath, hands scrubbing up the Witcher’s chest…

Geralt huffs, bringing Jaskier back to the present, the man clearly still waiting for an answer. 

Jaskier chuckles lightly, shaking off the fantasy, an idea for another day perhaps, “no, not a problem,” he answers, before leaning in to capture Geralt’s lips in return. 

It’s a messy kiss, broken by smiles and light laughter.

Geralt finally breaking it fully, ducking back ever so slightly to all but whisper “Gods you’re beautiful,” into the space between them.

‘Ah’, Jaskier thinks, ‘it’s going to be one of those days,’ days that are unreasonably gentle, filled with soft whispers and sweet platitudes, sugar sweet promises kissed into his skin. Good. He likes those days, likes to savour the kindness of it, the comfort, sitting at such a contrast to the rest of their life.

As though hearing his thoughts Geralt murmurs another soft, “beautiful,” hand raising to flick open the first few buttons of Jaskier’s shirt. Jaskier lets it happen, collar falling, exposing his collarbone.

Geralt hums, fingers brushing lightly over the light skin, before leaning down to press a line of soft kisses along the bard’s collarbone.

Jaskier shivers at the touch, so surprisingly light and delicate, at utter contrast to the man who stands before him. Gods, he truly does love this. He loves these moments of softness, the contrast of rough, well worked hands brushing so lightly over his skin.

He hums, comfortable, tilting his head back to give Geralt more access to his neck. The man doesn’t disappoint, trailing his line of kisses up, along the bard’s inviting neck, murmurs a quiet and soft, “lovely,” against the bard’s skin.

Jaskier sighs at the touch, at the word, “gods… I love when you’re so nice to me.” 

He feels Geralt freeze, just for a split second, going completely still against him. Hears Geralt’s breath hitch, stuttering out against his skin.

Geralt swallows. Hums, all but chokes out “is that so?” in response.

Jaskier assumes it was supposed to be suave, instead the words have a ruff edge to them, ragged and low as they scratch free of the Witcher’s throat. Interesting.

Geralt doesn’t wait for a response, instead doubling down on his attack on Jaskier’s neck, coming to kiss and nip at the edge of the man’s jaw, managing to hit the perfect spots to make Jaskier gasp and shiver.

A less trusting man might consider it an attempt at a distraction… 

But… Well now, Jaskier has never been one to just leave well enough alone.

Jaskier reluctantly tugs back from the touch, determinedly catching Geralt’s eye, before saying “I adore it, I adore you spoiling me.”

Geralt stutters, struggles out a “Jaskier… darling…”

He presses on, “I adore you.”

Geralt flushes. Jaskier swears it, swears he sees the edges of the Witcher’s ears reddening, the lightest of flushes gracing his face.

Oh. _Oh._

Things had decidedly just gotten much more interesting.

Geralt finds his words, growling out a response, “that’s usually my line.”

“I won’t oppose you continuing to use it.”

Geralt smiles, sharp and pointed, “good. Good to hear little lark,” hand moving to undo more of the buttons on Jaskier’s shirt.

Jaskier feels his heart flutter at the name, a familiar heat raising within him, but not enough to stop him from pushing back, “I love when you call me that.”

Geralt hums, apparently trying a new tactic of not engaging, flicking open the last of the buttons on Jaskier’s shirt, letting it fall open, exposing the rest of the bard’s chest. Breaths out a quiet, “lovely.”

Jaskier flushes, searching for a response. But Geralt jumps on his momentary silence before one comes to mind, rough hands brushing across Jaskier’s soft skin as he says “absolutely lovely, you are stunning, my _darling.”_ he all but purrs out the last word, clearly trying to distract Jaskier further.

It almost works, Jaskier feels his flush deepen, but still manages to stutter out a “thank you, I- appreciate that- yes- thank you.”

Geralt raises a less than impressed eyebrow at the jumble of words.

“you- I- You’re so good to me, and… I enjoy it.”

Geralt groans, bites out, “you’re ridiculous,” with an almost pained expression. If it wasn’t for the persistent flush dusting the man’s cheeks… along with the growing bulge slowly filling out the Witcher’s pants… well Jaskier almost might have believed the act.

“I am, I believe as a direct quote, _stunning_.” Jaskier bites back, taking the opportunity to loosen a few of the buttons on Geralt’s shirt in return, he refused to be the only one getting naked here.

“I meant to say insufferable.”

“I’m _Lovely,_ ” Jaskier answers, flicking open the last of the buttons, taking a moment to enjoy the site before running a hand down Geralt’s chest.

“you.” Geralt responds, “are. infuriating.” Each word is punctuated by the undoing of one of the buttons on Jaskier’s pants.

Jaskier presses in as close as he can manage without once again kissing Geralt, “and yet,” he says, head tilted in challenge, “you like me anyways.”

Geralt smiles at that, sharp and dangerous, “I do, I adore you, little lark.”

Jaskier sucks in a sharp breath at the words, smiling in return, already working on a response. But Geralt captures his lips once more before he has the chance to offer one, holding Jaskier tight against him. 

A hand sneaks down, to press against Jaskier’s cock, still not freeing it from the confines of his trousers but offering a playful squeeze. Jaskier jumps at the touch, startled, but does not pull away.

Jaskier sighs at the touch, Geralt smiling the same pointed grin as before. “You are unbelievable, my songbird, as unbelievable as you are stunning.”

“you’re so kind.” Jaskier manages to gasp out, struggling to keep his composure with Geralt’s hand on him, feeling the scales once again tipping away from his favour.

Geralt growls at that, “and you’re normally quieter by now.” 

Jaskier finds his tongue too muddled to respond, mind lost for words, so instead he takes the chance to shove forward, send Geralt sprawling back onto the soft bed behind them. He ignores the fact the move decidedly only worked because Geralt let it, instead focusing on removing his shirt and finally wiggling free of his trousers.

Geralt snorts at the action, Jaskier shooting the Witcher a warning glare in response.

“I didn’t say anything,” Geralt protests.

“you were… thinking something.” Jaskier counters, kicking his pants to the side.

Geralt snorts again, eyes flicking up and down Jaskier’s now exposed body, “you’re… magnificent.”

“Geralt.”

“hmm… it’s true, you are.” The Witcher eyes Jaskier, slow and relaxed, hand moving to finally undo his own trousers as well, letting them fall open with ease.

Jaskier huffs, scrambling up, comfortably straddling the man. Geralt grunts at the weight, hands raising to help support Jaskier.

“Beautiful.”

Jaskier hums, feels his unavoidable blush deepen, tipping forward to capture Geralt’s mouth once more. Finally tipping back to rasp out, “gods, it really is wonderous to hear you say that.”

Geralt flushes. It is definite now, a light heat raising on the Witcher’s cheeks, success. Jaskier beams at the site, runs a hand over Geralt’s chest, feeling the warmth radiating off the man’s skin, unable to resist from pressing further, “it is wonderous how kind- how good, you can be.”

Geralt grunts, clearly still refusing to let his enjoyment show on his face, not that Jaskier has any plans to let that stop him.

Jaskier shifts, hips rolling, finding a comfortable position, only slightly basking in the way Geralt stares up at him, he swears.

“Absolutely stunning,” Geralt hums, staring up with a twinkle in his eye. 

Jaskier ducks his head, flushing deeper at the praise, not managing to find a response before Geralt keeps talking, “my beautiful, beautiful bard,” the Witcher says with a smile.

Jaskier feels his body thrum at the words, gods, he adores this idiot of a man. He reaches back, hand finding Geralt’s cock, giving it a few determined strokes.

Geralt groans, but shifts as well, hands moving to cup Jaskier’s backside, spreading him wide, fingers angling to tease at Jaskier’s hole, gentle in their probing.

“This,” Geralt all but grunts out, “is not the most opportune of positions.”

Jaskier hums, far too worked up at this point to care, all too quickly batting away Geralt’s hands, shifting as best he can to line the Witcher’s cock up with his hole.

Geralt frowns slightly at the decision, takes the time to ask, “do you want more-”

Jaskier groans at the pause, growls out “I want you to shut up.” not truly meaning the words on any level, just wanting to feel Geralt inside of him already.

Geralt snorts again at that, “If that’s what you want, I’m sure I can manage it.”

Jaskier realises what he just said, spitting out a response, half-panicked, “No- I didn’t- I don’t-”

“It’s fine, Jask, I know.”

“Good.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, little lark.”

Jaskier groans again at the name, sinking down as slowly as he can manage, aware of how little prep he has had. Geralt groans as well in answer, hands coming up to cup the bard’s waist, help hold him steady.

Jaskier lets himself take his time now, shifting slow and careful, knowing Geralt won’t rush him. Knowing the Witcher will be patient, be kind, let him take as much time as he wants.

Geralt doesn’t disappoint, letting the bard have his way, groaning out a, “gods, Jaskier... fuck… You are magnificent.”

Jaskier hums in response, currently rather too focused on his task to bother responding. Fuck, Geralt feels good, filling, comfortable. The slight burn from the stretch just on the right side of pleasant.

Jaskier finally bottoms out with a low groan, pausing to take it all in. He shifts, resting, giving himself a moment to adjust to the stretch. Gods, it does feel good, he opens his mouth to tell Geralt as much, the Witcher just beating him to it.

“Fucking beautiful Jask, fucking- you feel so good, darling, look so good, so pretty like this.”

Jaskier gasps, shifting again, fuck, it really wasn’t fair, the extent to which Geralt’s words could turn his mind to mush. He manages to scrape together the sense to respond, answering, “you feel- fucking- divine. Fuck, so good.” 

Geralt hums, shifts below him, Jaskier moans at the sensation, god knows how but he had forgotten just how wonderous this was.

Jaskier steadies himself carefully, before beginning to move, raising up slow and careful, before sinking back down with a low hiss.

“Fucking Beautiful Jask,” Geralt groans out, voice low and gravely, sending shivers up the bard’s spine.

He only manages a moan in response, continuing to move, still so wondrously, torturously, slow. Drawing out each movement, wanting to feel it, feel the Witcher. Still, even he only has so much patience, he lets himself pick up the pace, slowly getting faster.

Geralt moans in appreciation, growls out “gods, Jaskier. So good, you’re so good.”

Jaskier wants to respond, watch the Witcher flush and stutter in response, managing little more than a, “It’s- I- fuck-” He cuts his own ramblings off, fuck, he doesn’t know how Geralt does it, managing to stay so fucking coherent at a time like this.

He does manage to bite out a, “thank you,” sinking down low, hips rolling. Gods he wishes he had the words to explain these sensations to Geralt, describe how fucking fantastic he makes him feel. But his mind, his tongue, refuse to cooperate, leaving him a stuttering mess instead.

Geralt clearly doesn’t have the same problem, “so good. so fucking perfect.”

Jaskier shutters again, shifts. Hears Geralt moan in response.

Jaskier speeds up his movements, throwing comfort to the wind. Fuck, his heart was pounding, skin flushed, gods. He has needs to fulfil.

Jaskier shifts, raising a hand, trusting Geralt to keep him stable, and takes hold of his own cock, already hard and leaking. He groans at the pressure, stroking in time with his movements. 

Geralt groans at the sight. Bites out another, “fucking beautiful.” Strong hands digging ever so slightly into Jaskier’s hips, keeping pace.

Jaskier feels the Witcher thrust up, ever so slightly, trying to remain refrained, trying to let him remain in control, but clearly, finally, no longer able to hold back.

He gasps at the movement, manages to find the words to stutter out, “I – fucking – love you. fuck.” 

Geralt growls at the words, a wonderful, rumbling sound Jaskier feels within his very core. He gasps out another half-desperate “fuck,” hips snapping down as hard as he can manage.

“So good,” Geralt drawls out once more, and that proves enough. Jaskier comes with a moan, spilling out, onto Geralt’s chest.

Jaskier moans again, feels his thighs shaking, breath coming out rough and heavy. He lets Geralt carefully manoeuvre him down, alongside the Witcher on the bed.

“So fucking good,” Geralt growls out, tilting his head down to press a needy kiss to Jaskier’s lips.

Jaskier presses into it with a moan, hand reaching to wrap around Geralt’s cock. It only takes a few strokes before Geralt comes as well, spilling out over Jaskier’s hand.

Jaskier hums comfortably, pressing up for another kiss.

He lets himself settle back with a contented sigh, smearing his hand across the Witcher’s chest to clean it, mixing their spent together in the process.

Geralt wrinkles his nose at the movement, offering a dry and unimpressed, “lovely.”

Jaskier hums, “I am very lovely, or so I’m told.”

Geralt snorts, looking down at the mess, “the man who told you that is a fool.”

“hmm, I think he’s rather lovely himself actually.” Jaskier teases back, watching closely to see how Geralt takes the words. He is rewarded by the ever so faintest hint of a smile, the corner of the Witcher’s lips just starting to curl up before the man catches it, painting on a slight, fake irritated frown instead.

Jaskier presses on, “absolutely lovely, and good-” he sees Geralt’s jaw twitch at that, “-and _kind_.”

Geralt snarls, moving to flip them so he is lying on top, pinning the bard against the bed. “Jaskier,” he growls out, “you are…”

“yes?”

“… an incredible and infuriating nuisance.”

**Author's Note:**

> I 100% stole this idea from a tumblr post that i now can't find again so... shout out to that one tumblr post.


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